


“Let Me Take Care Of You“

by galaxticangel



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Massage, din is the little spoon, little spoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29103138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxticangel/pseuds/galaxticangel
Summary: Din is overwhelmed following the finale and reader decides to help him unwind.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	“Let Me Take Care Of You“

From the doorway you watched Din, hunched on the edge of the bed with his helmet beside him.

Weeks had passed since Grogu left with the Jedi, although he puts on a brave face, it's in these moments he takes that armour off. 

"Din?"

He looked back at you and although there were no tears staining his cheeks you could feel his pain. "I thought you were with Cara?"

You shook my head slowly. While Bo-Katan and her crew organised everything they needed to take back Mandalore you and Din had returned to Navarro to ensure Moff Gideon didn't escape justice again. 

"I was but decided to call it a night, I don't like leaving you on your own."

"I'm fine," he promised, those beautiful brown eyes watching you walk towards him until you came to stand between his legs. "I swear, you don't need to worry."

"I wouldn't be worried if you didn't try to deal with this alone," you said, running your fingertips through his hair which had grown out enough to over his forehead. Beautiful, but a sign he was letting himself go. "Let me take care of you my love."

Your fingers brushed his lightly bearded jaw that he hadn't shaved in quite some time, and slid down his neck to his shoulders feeling tension in them. Your fingers rubbed the tense muscle there and he winced. "Cyar-"

"Lie down," you coaxed with a soft kiss to his lips that he melted into. "But first."

Your fingers brushed the hemline of his shirt and he gave you a tired smile. "You know I love you Cyar'ika, but could I make it up to you tomorrow?"

You shook your head with a small smile, knowing sex isn't what he needs. "This is about you, just trust me."

And so he helped you take his shirt off, holding you by the waist meaning to pull you on top of him, but as he went to lie down on his back you shook your head and removed his hands.

"Stomach."

He looked confused but didn't argue as he turned over to lay on his stomach. You climbed onto the bed and came to hover over his toned back with your knees on either side of his waist, reaching over into the bedside draw to pull out the oil you'd picked at the market earlier. Carefully, you settled back on him and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. 

"Cyar-" he began but a low moan caught in his through as your hands began kneeled his stiff, weary muscles. 

"Let me take care of you," you murmured in his ear, kissing his shoulder as your hands continued to explore his body, tense beyond belief. 

"I think I'd prefer sex," he ground out, cringing at the pain despite his high tolerance for it. 

"I'll make it up to you later," you promised him, knowing you’d be more than happy to end this with your mouth on him. “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

He relaxed beneath you as you rubbed oil over his back, the concept of it confusing him but he trusted you. 

“You’ll feel a lot better after this,” you said, wanting to ask if he’s ever been touched like this but you knew the answer. 

You knew no one had every touched him like this before you, no one had seen his face, kissed his lips, held his body. Not until you. So you knew no one had ever cared for him like this, that he’d never trusted anyone enough to take the tension from his aching body that’s been weighed down by beskar for so many years. 

You were in tune with his body, knew it like the back of your hand. And he turned to putty beneath you. Easing into your touch as you unravelled years of knots beneath his skin. Years of pain. 

“Cyar’ika?” he whispered as the pain disappeared along with the tension. 

“Mmm?”

“I don’t want to do this,” he told you. “I don’t want the Darksaber, or Mandalore. All I want, all I need, is you and the kid.”

Your hands stilled and you leaned forward until your lips brushed his ear. “I know my love, I know. The kid- it’s not forever. When it’s safe, when he’s trained, he can come home. And as for the rest... you won’t have to do it alone.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek and he shuddered, such a gentle touch still almost overwhelming after all those years hidden beneath beskar. 

“It’s just- it’s just too much.” He shifted beneath you and you lifted yourself up, allowing him to turn onto his back and rest his hands on your waist. “It’s all too much. Everything, except for you. Whatever comes next is going to be bloody, I don’t want you to be forced into that.”

“I’m not,” you assured him, realising his stress hasn’t just been due to the child. “It’s you and me Din. I’ve been by your side for all the bad and the good the galaxy has thrown at us. That is never going to change.”

His hand came to cup your cheek and you leaned down to press your lips to his. “I love you.”

“I love you too Din.”

He offered you a small, pained smile. He’s never been one for words but he doesn’t have to be. You know he loves you, you know he’s in pain and isn’t thinking clearly, you know he just needs someone to care for him. 

And so you laid down beside him, letting him to rest his head on your chest, his breath slowing as he listened to your heartbeat. Your fingers ran through that beautiful hair of his, calming him. Slowly soothing him to sleep. 

“Goodnight Din.”

“Goodnight Ner Kar’ta,” he breathed. A new, unfamiliar phrase. 

In the morning you would ask him what it meant but in that moment, both of you were finally at peace.


End file.
